To Change Fate (Or Hurry it Along)
by Admiral T. DeVanto
Summary: Raizel is the one to stumble into Frankenstein's home, and it is Frankenstein who offers the Noblesse a place to stay. An AU with a role reversal.
1. Chapter 1

He stumbled through the dark woods. Wet branches smacked at his face and brambles pinched his legs, yet he continued running. Clutching his bleeding side, he breathed in, only to choke and spit out a mouthful of blood. His vision, almost useless in the dark, blurred, and he fell into the wet mud. He lay there for a minute, wondering if he could stay here like this, alone and ready to accept his fate.

The sound of his pursuers did nothing to encourage him to his feet. He remained motionless, his body trembling. The sound of thunder overhead crackled in his ears, yet before the first droplet of rain hit the ground, his face was already soaked with tears.

He had not cried in ages. He never cried for anyone. Not for the family he could no longer remember, not for the people he had judged and killed, and certainly not for the friend he left behind for dead in the field miles away.

No. He cried because his Noble soul would not leave his body. He cried because after all he had been through, after all the times he had stained his hands with the blood of others and now his own, after he had been forced to commit the ultimate betrayal and kill his friend for the sake of others, he would not die.

Either he would die here, or his pursuers would kill him. It did not matter. He could not live with himself after what he had done. He did not even care why he was being pursued. If this was all a set-up, then he would willingly fall into their trap. It's what he wanted, but Eternal Sleep was evading him. Despite the pain he was in, his body had not endured enough damage to succumb to his wounds. Perhaps, if he lay here in the cold, bleeding out, he would finally have his eternal rest. Death had to come eventually.

He moved his head, looking up through the trees and into the dark sky. When would his pursuers get here? It shouldn't be long now. He was ready to die. He was ready to give up.

Except...was he really?

With narrowed eyes, he pushed himself up despite the pain inflicting his body. He panted, a groan escaping his lips. Was he really ready to give up? If not for living, then for his duty? Who would take up the mantle? Who would continue to perform his responsibility as judge and protector?

As always, his duty to his position above all else won over. Nothing overrode his noble position. Not love. Not family. And certainly not his own desires.

Death would have to wait.

He was on his knees now, his pants filthy with mud, blood, and leaves. But he was staggering to his feet.

No. If he was going to die, he would like to give it his best until his body finally gave out and accepted Eternal Sleep. At least he had held on to his title as ultimate and feared judge. Until then, he would press on through this never-ending forest.

Except it was not as never-ending as he thought. He must have been closer to the edge of the forest than he thought, for as he broke through the thick brush, a village awaited him.

Panting, he grimaced as he looked at the wall before him. Could he summon enough strength to fly up?

Enraged shouts from behind caught his attention, and he looked back with wide eyes before making the ultimate, hasty decision. Yes, he could gather the strength to fly. He would make the strength.

With staggering legs, he launched up into the air and threw himself over the towering wall. His landing was far from graceful as he tumbled to the ground. His knees gave out from beneath him the minute his feet hit the ground, but he was up and limping away to the nearest building.

The windows glowed with a warm light from the fire inside the building. Had he taken the time to notice, he would have noted that it was the largest building in the square, and quite possibly the nicest. But it was dark, and he was filled with too much pain to care.

With trembling hands, he pushed the door open and stumbled in. Closing the door behind him, he leaned up against the sturdy wood and breathed in. His knees trembled, and he sank to the ground with a gasp. The warmth of the home touched his chilled body. He shivered yet welcomed the comforting touch.

He stayed there for a bit, allowing his body the moment to rest. Hibernation called for him. It sweetly whispered in his ear and tugged at him to fall into her warm embrace, but he could not give in to her temptations just yet. For going into hibernation would leave him vulnerable. He would need to assess his surroundings first before even considering going into hibernation.

Pushing back against the door, he stood up. Limping forward, he left the large hallway and entered what he assumed to be a kitchen. Without a second thought, he collapsed into the chair. Biting his lip to keep from crying out, he peeled his hand away from his wound to assess the damage. He grimaced at what he saw. Three large claw marks marred his sides. Blood continued to seep through his torn shirt, yet he was thankful that he was no longer gushing blood. He always bleeds easily, yet it seemed as if his body was trying to heal itself rather than continue on in its self-destructive path.

He looked around for a possible towel or rag to clot the wound before he realized that he had intruded in someone's home and was using their stuff. Despite himself, his pale cheeks turned pink at the thought. How rude of him! He had just barged in here, bleeding and tracking mud and water into this person's home!

"My, my. Do my eyes deceive me, or is there a strange young man sitting in my kitchen?" *

He looked up with wide eyes to stare at the new arrival. Standing on the steps that led down to the kitchen area was a tall and imposing man. With his hands casually stuffed in his coat pocket, the man did not seem at all alarmed to see a wounded stranger in his home. His features were just as sharp as his blue eyes, contrasting with his long, soft blond hair.

However, there was a hidden energy within him. Darker than the night, sharper than a sword, he could sense this turmoil of emotions within this human.

This man held no weapon, yet his presence was just as malevolent.

He stared at the blond man. He remained still, understanding that he would be unable to fight. All he would be able to offer was an apology. "I am sorry."

The man smiled, yet there was no warmth in his gaze. "You are not a very good intruder if you are already making apologies." He frowned and descended the stairs. Adjusting his glasses, he glanced at the floor which was stained with blood. "Bandits?"

It took him a moment to realize that the human was inquiring as to what had caused his injuries. With one more glance at his injuries, he grimaced. "Ah, no."

The man hummed, though his gaze held no surprise or further speculation. It was as if he did not suspect that bandits or any normal human attack was the cause for his injuries.

Examining the wound, the man's frown deepened. "Then if not bandits, it was by some other means." His fingers hovered over the wound yet did not even brush up against the torn fabric. "These look like claw marks. Very long claw marks. From a large wolf or," He raised his eyes to reveal the conclusion he had already come to. "Werewolf?"

Despite his weakened state, he met the man's gaze with cold eyes. He was always comfortable in his silence, usually not one for words, but this man seemed to have gathered what he needed despite his wounded guest remaining tight-lipped.

He blinked as his vision became blurry. The tempting call of hibernation sang from within him, and he gasped as his body flared with pain. He stumbled from his seat and clutched at his bleeding side. The blood now gushed out as if anew, and the icy dread of fear gripped his heart.

Someone was grabbing his arms. His feet were no longer planted on the floor. He was moving upward, though he did not know where. He pushed back as sleep called out for him. Never, in his entire life, had he been so close to death, yet Eternal Sleep had evaded him. Was he to remain in pain for his entire life, yet never know peace?

Someone was setting him down on a soft cloud. Perhaps he had descended into Eternal Sleep after all. The rough wood that used to be the chair was replaced with the cold softness of bliss. In the back of his mind, he wondered where he was.

His senses came back into focus as he breathed in. Something warm and wet touched his side, and a pained hiss escaped his lips. Moving his head to the side, he saw the blue-eyed human kneeling beside him with a white cloth in his hand. The pristine cloth was soon stained red, and he realized that this man was cleaning his wounds.

"You needn't look so surprised," the man chided. "I am a doctor after all."

"Oh." He turned his head to look back up at the wooden ceiling. So it was not a cloud he was resting on, but a bed. Hibernation remained so tempting. Perhaps he could hold off until this man was done with cleaning the wounds. Once he was alone, he would allow himself to heal in hibernations embrace. He knew doctors were human terms for healer. If this man was a healer, then he was by no means in any immediate danger.

For the first time since he had left his home, a small smile crossed his lips. "Thank you."

There was silence for a moment, or maybe it was the ringing of his ears as his mind became dark, but perhaps the human had accepted his thanks, or perhaps he had remained silent as he diligently worked on cleaning the wound.

However, he did hear his next words. "I'm Frankenstein."

Before darkness pulled him in, he too spoke his name. "Cadis Etrama di Raizel."

* * *

**A/N:**

*** I could not resist throwing in a Fruits Basket (2001) line. **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N 1: A warning for anyone who is squeamish. A significant amount of blood is mentioned in this chapter.**

* * *

Frankenstein was by no means an idiot. He knew right away that those wounds were not caused by bandits. Just like he knew that the intruder in his home was not a human.

Any idiot could see that the raven-haired man was no human. His eyes were just as red as the blood seeping from his body. However, despite their unnatural color, there was a warmth in those crimson orbs. There was also pain. From the moment Frankenstein began cleaning the wound, his patient only once betrayed how much agony he was in. After that, he had remained silent and still as if unperturbed that he was bleeding out on the floor.

Frankenstein was wary about this Noble. He knew how to sense a Noble whenever one approached, and this one was barely hiding his energy. From the moment the Noble had entered his home, he had remained alert. After moving around and severing ties with anyone he came across, had the Nobles finally tracked him down?

But this Noble did not seem at all interested in hunting him down or fighting. In fact, it seemed as if this Noble had dragged himself from an all to recent battle. Frankenstein could not conclude if the Noble was the winner of the fight or not, but because the Noble was alive, he deduced that he might have been the victor.

But if the Noble was not here for him, then what was he doing so far away from Lukedonia? He knew that the homeland of the Nobles was nowhere near any human residence. He had narrowed it down to a few possible places, but Frankenstein had never set out to test his theories. Not yet.

The tension he felt in his body did not show on his face or in the way he set about with his work. His hands stayed swift and steady despite his nerves remaining tight as a bow string. His face was unreadable, showing neither concern nor wariness as he cleaned the wound of the Noble.

Arising from his position near the bed, he took the bowl of warm water (now lukewarm) and nodded to the patient. "I will be right back."

Soft breathing was his only response.

Frankenstein made haste in drawing hot water from the pot over the fire. Setting the bowl down on the kitchen table, he pulled out a few jars of blended herbs and medicines. He knew a few techniques that would bind and capture a Noble, even harm them. But healing one? He was unsure about that. He figured that he would try and apply the same healing techniques he used on himself for the Noble patient.

It was times like this when he wished he still had an assistant. Tesamu was a good assistant; always ready to help and prove himself responsible. But Tesamu was not here, and Frankenstein would have to work with what he had.

Gathering his supplies, he went back up into the room where the patient was. Pushing the door open with his foot, he glanced once more at the man. With his eyes closed, he seemed to be asleep. The bed sheets were wet and muddy, and the blankets were stained with blood. However, Frankenstein was not perturbed by the sight of blood.

The bleeding had slowed down. However, trickles of blood were still seeping from the wound and staining the white shirt.

Frankenstein blinked and cocked his head. In a momentary lapse of confusion, he frowned. Wasn't the white shirt the Noble had worn torn in the sides? Before, Frankenstein could clearly see the gaping wound without moving the fabric of the shirt. Aside from the mended tear, the white shirt was clean: there was no speck of blood or mud, and the shirt was completely dry.

He was at a loss. No conclusion as to how or what had happened would present itself. Looking around the room, he frowned and wondered if the Noble had somehow, in his injured state, managed to sneak past him down the stairs, through the kitchen and find his room, steal a shirt before making his way back up into the spare bedroom.

The idea was ludicrous the moment Frankenstein thought of it, but he couldn't help asking. "You're not wearing my shirt, are you?"

Red eyes flashed open and were wide with such young, childlike innocence that Frankenstein was taken aback. The Noble shook his head, somehow looking sheepish for an ancient being.

This led Frankenstein to another theory, and one that he had never confirmed before. But in the present moment, it made sense. A sigh of exasperation escaped him. "You fixed your shirt, didn't you?"

A small nod was the answer he received.

Hm, fascinating. So Nobles did have the ability to alter their attire. He was unsure why they would need such an ability in the first place, unless they had specific wardrobes for unexpected battles or fancy events.

But Frankenstein would dwell on it later. If he got lost in his head and entertained himself with his theories, his patient might just bleed out.

Kneeling by the bedside with the bowl of steaming water and jars of herbs and medicines, Frankenstein frowned. "You will need to unbutton your shirt so I can look at the wound."

The Noble opened his eyes once more. There was no flicker of annoyance or pain at the inconvenience. With a twitch of his fingers, his shirt unbuttoned itself to reveal the wound. The dried blood stood out against his pale skin. Frankenstein could not determine just how deep the slashes were. It seemed that whatever had attacked this Noble had barely missed hitting his ribs, for which Frankenstein was relieved.

Frankenstein's frown deepened at the sight. Just as he had suspected, the wound was from a werewolf. Thin, long gashes spread across the Noble's side. The cuts were too deep and too long for a normal wolf. But why wasn't this healing? Surely a Noble would be able to heal themselves faster than any normal human. Still, he seemed to be doing better than any of Frankenstein's normal, human patients.

Perhaps it was because the bleeding had slowed down, or perhaps it was because Frankenstein had cleaned the worst of it away, but the injury did not seem as bad as it had originally.

Gathering a few herbs and combining them, Frankenstein prepared the bandages. Turning once more to apply the bandage, he noticed the Noble staring at him, or more specifically, the herbs he was holding.

"This is comfrey and nettle," he explained. "It will stop the bleeding."

Something akin to a smile flickered across the Noble's face, but he said nothing as he looked back up at the ceiling.

Frankenstein was silent as he bandaged the wound. It was too deep for him to apply any salve directly. A thin layer of wrapping to clot the wound would prevent any stems from the herbs from getting in. He then gently applied the herbs onto the bandage: already, the white covering was stained with blood. He then applied another layer of bandages to keep the herbs in place.

"I'll be back," he promised. Taking the bowl of water, he glanced once more at the Noble before leaving with the bloody rags.

He knew the Noble had a name. A long and elegant name. Saying his name was like a full sentence. It was too provocative to say the full name, so Frankenstein, in his mind, referred to the Noble as Raizel.

He was not worried about the Noble's health. He knew Nobles had amazing healing abilities and could recover from a wound that would kill a human. His observations and studies had shown him the evidence of that fact. However, he was bothered at the amount of blood the Noble, Raizel, was losing. If any human suffered from such blood loss, then they would either pass out, or depending on how much they lost, die.

But Nobles and humans were two different beings. Whereas humans were fragile creatures, Nobles were not.

The wariness within Frankenstein grew, even as he approached the spare bedroom once more. Despite his injuries, could Raizel still summon enough power to fight him? Was he sent, like the others, to track down their missing fellow Nobles? If that was the case, then offering his assistance in the healing process was not wise. What would happen if this Noble were to regain his full strength? Even if he was not sent to track down Frankenstein, he could report his findings to the other Nobles. Frankenstein would then have to leave...again, right after he had finally found a secluded village.

It went against every instinct of his to not help his patient, yet his conflicting thoughts warned him of the power Nobles wielded. Even now, he could not judge the amount of power Raizel had. He was cloaking his energy to the point where, if Frankenstein closed his eyes, he could fool himself into believing that no one was beyond that door. Just how strong was he if he was able to hide his power despite his injuries?

He sighed. Well, it would not do to just leave him, Noble or not. He could not forget the flash of innocence that had filled those red eyes, or the brief look of fear. No, he would help this Noble before sending him on his way. Then, Frankenstein would also have to leave to avoid detection.

With that thought in mind, he opened the door and fully expected to see Raizel laying down in the bed, either asleep or sluggishly awake.

Instead, he nearly stumbled over a coffin.

* * *

**A/N 2: I apologize for my lack of medical knowledge. I did research medicines of the Dark Ages (since I believe that's when Frankenstein and Raizel met). I also looked up the different herbs for blood clotting and pain relief. If anyone notices an error, please say so in a review and I will do my best to remedy it.**


	3. Chapter 3

He knew the human was wary of him, and Raizel could understand why. After all, allowing someone to stay in your home after they had broken in was hardly a normal response. However, Raizel was thankful that Frankenstein did not care for the 'normality' of the human ways. Without inquiring too much, Frankenstein had set to work in doing what he could to clean the wound in his side.

Raizel let him, even though his body was already working on healing itself. However, he was not healing as fast as he should. But that was to be expected, considering the fight he had just crawled back from.

His heart ached yet again. The pain in his soul was worse than the pain in his side. Biting the inside of his cheek, he turned his head away to face the wall of the humble room.

As a distraction, he focused on mending his torn shirt. The multiple tears in his white dress shirt were mended, the mud and blood were removed, and his clothing was dried. Frankenstein had removed his shoes, and he did not see any reason to create new ones if he was lying in a bed.

Now that he was somewhat presentable, Raizel sunk into the warm sheets of the bed. Moving too much hurt, but at least he was dry and safe from the raging storm outside. Curiously enough, his pursuers had yet to find him, though that did not surprise him. It would be difficult to find anyone in this storm.

He shivered at the sound of thunder cracking overhead, and he closed his eyes in an effort to rest. The rain pelted against the house and filled the silence. Usually, he found a light rainstorm to be calming. However, it was raging storms like this that filled him with unease.

He sensed the familiar, chaotic energy that belonged to Frankenstein, and he was made aware of the human's presence before he even heard the door open. There was a moment of silence, yet he did not bother to move or open his eyes. He was too tired to do much of anything anyway.

"You're not wearing my shirt, are you?"

The question held a tone of disbelief and confusion, and it startled Raizel so much that he opened his eyes. He looked at Frankenstein as a rush of embarrassment filled him. Did Frankenstein think he would disrespect his host so much that he would steal from him? Had he really portrayed such poor characteristics that he would be suspected of thievery?

Mortification filled him at the thought of leaving the impression of a criminal, and he shook his head in denial.

But Frankenstein did not seem to be accusing him. Instead, he looked as if he was trying to fit in an elusive piece to a puzzle. A sigh escaped him, and a small smile flickered on his lips. "You changed your shirt, didn't you?" he asked.

Raizel nodded.

The nonverbal answer seemed to satisfy Frankenstein, for he set to work setting down the new steaming bowl of water on the small stool before carefully handling an assortment of herbs. He paused for a moment before unflinchingly raising his gaze to Raizel. "You will need to unbutton your shirt so I can look at the wound."

Ah, of course. He was hindering Frankenstein from his work. Such an oversight on his part left him flustered. With his left shoulder aching too much to move, he merely lifted his fingers, and a red aura surrounded his shirt to unbutton.

Raizel was not a queasy person when it came to the sight of blood. However, when the cold air touched his wounds, he clenched his teeth and avoided looking at the injury. No, he was not healing as fast as he should, but he resisted the urge to flinch as Frankenstein continued to clean at the wound.

He was curious how the art of healing was performed on humans. Nobles had no need for such healers. But with humans being as fragile as they were, he understood that a healer must be highly valued.

The strong smell of herbs reached his nose, and his expression must have been one of curiosity, for Frankenstein had explained what the herbs were and their use. Mainly, they were to stop his bleeding. He had almost smiled at the explanation. Despite the attempts of his body to heal itself, he was still bleeding (but not as bad as before). Still, he said nothing as Frankenstein continued to clean the area of the wound before applying the herbs.

Frankenstein carried an unusual energy within him. Yes, he was human, but at the same time, there was an abnormal taint to his soul. This abnormality latched onto the human, sinking its hold deep within the crevices of his spirit. At this point, the extra tainted energy was so connected to Frankenstein that the sharp claws dug in deep to his soul. It worried Raizel, not for his own safety, but what should become of Frankenstein should he allow this intruding energy to fully merge within him.

Maybe that was why Frankenstein reminded him of a drowning man. With only his head above the water, there was nothing much that was preventing him from sinking. Still, he clawed at the surface, drawing in meager breaths to stay afloat.

Amidst the wariness and concern, Raizel also felt several warring emotions within Frankenstein; Hatred, rage, and murderous intent.

The negative and hostile emotions were not Frankenstein's, but they were coming from within him, and these emotions were not directed at Raizel.

But at Frankenstein himself.

Raizel's red eyes flickered over to Frankenstein with a worried look.

When Frankenstein left with a promise to return, he took the bowl of water and the bloody rags with him. Left alone in the room once more, Raizel stared at the ceiling without noticing the splintered wood. His hand lightly brushed up against the bandage on his side. As curious as he was to see what Frankenstein had done, Raizel did not attempt to sit up. However, he carefully explored the bandage with his hands, touching the soft covering and feeling the slight bumps of the herbs. Moving his fingers up to his nose, he sniffed and caught another strong whiff of the herbs.

He thought, with a small blush, that he smelled like an herbal brew of tea.

Buttoning up his shirt once more, he winced at the ache in his shoulder. The gash in his side was not the only injury he had sustained, and he knew Frankenstein was aware of that and intended to tend to his other injuries. Though Raizel was thankful for Frankenstein's willingness to help him, there was only so much a human doctor could do for him.

Perhaps now was the best time for him to enter hibernation.

He would not sleep for too long. No, just enough for his body to close up the wounds and patch up the internal damage. Of course, his power would not be fully restored, but at least the pain would subside, and he would not be an inconvenience to Frankenstein.

A small part of him was worried. Now that he had decided to go through with his decision, he could only wonder where he would wake up next. Surely Frankenstein would not keep him here in this room for long. Most likely, he would abandon him and this home, or drop him off somewhere. But after all that the human had done for him already, Raizel could not ask for anything more. After all, despite his misgivings and apparent worries of being around him, Frankenstein had still tried to help him.

However, there was the fact that Frankenstein felt responsible for him. Raizel could feel the human's conflicting thoughts, and the tension rising within him. Such emotions were tearing Frankenstein apart and making this very difficult for him.

If that was the case, Raizel would make it easier for him. He did not want Frankenstein to feel responsible for him.

Closing his eyes, Raizel finally succumbed to the sweet embrace of hibernation.

* * *

**A/N: I promise, not every chapter will be a repeat of the same scene with different POVs.**


	4. Chapter 4

Frankenstein stared at the intrinsic coffin as if he expected the inanimate object to give him an answer as to why it was even here. He looked at the bed once more.

The empty bed.

Frankenstein frowned. He could sense the Noble's energy, as if he was still in the room. But it was muted, as if there was a slumbering beast in the deep crevices of a cave.

He hesitated before reaching out and brushing his fingers against the ornate stone. After the lack of any sort of malicious curse or lighting bearing down on him for touching the unexplained object, Frankenstein stepped back to get a better look at it. It was no ordinary coffin. This coffin was fit for a lord. No, a king! It wasn't even made of wood, but rather, polished marble. Was that gold on the edges? And the ornate cross! Such detail!

Frankenstein admired the designs on the coffin. Even during his travels, he had never seen such an elaborate attention to detail. It took his breath away and only filled him with curiosity.

Where did it come from?

Frankenstein continued to stare at the coffin. Then, nudging the it with his foot, he said "Hello?"

Nothing answered him.

For the first time in a long while, Frankenstein felt immensely foolish. With an embarrassed cough, he ran his hand through his hair and looked around the room. Well, opening the coffin seemed like an obvious way to get some answers. However, the very thought almost startled him. If he could sense Raizel's energy, then did that mean the Noble was inside the coffin?

It would explain Raizel's sudden disappearance and the sudden appearance of the coffin.

After determining that the coffin was safe to touch, the next problem was deciding what to do with it. He couldn't keep a coffin up here! He needed this for patients! And even with his modified strength, lifting the thing seemed like it would be difficult, especially if there was a body in it. (Not that he thought Raizel's body would weigh that much. The Noble looked to be dangerously thin).

He shuddered at the thought of a Noble's body in there. Was this some sort of burial? But Nobles did not leave behind a body!

Well, there was no way that he could leave it. He was tired of the constant running, and he had finally managed to feel secure in this little village. Besides, he really could not leave a question unanswered.

Still, how did he feel about having a Noble staying in his home? At least, he assumed that the Noble was still there in that coffin. If not, then Frankenstein would have been walking on eggshells around that coffin for nothing.

After staring at the coffin for several long minutes and trying to observe it without disturbing the possible occupant, Frankenstein concluded that it would be best to ignore the thing for now. His initial thought (and temptation) was to sit in a chair and further observe the coffin, but he concluded that it would be pointless; not to mention creepy if Raizel was sleeping in there.

An awareness filled his senses. With a frown, he glanced at the doorway that led from the spare bedroom. He sensed multiple movements heading in the direction of his home. Firm and relentless, the group was persistent in this storm.

With one last glance at the coffin, he left the room and closed the door behind him. Descending the stairs, he clenched his fists. He could not sense any hint of malice, but that did not necessarily mean that the group heading for his home held no ill will for him.

Through the pounding of the rain, he could detect the sound of someone banging on his door. He waited for a moment, silently counting to ten under his breath before striding towards the door. The impatient person outside was knocking a second time before he opened the door.

A blast of cold wind swept in through the door, chilling Frankenstein. Blinking against the water droplets dripping on his face, he held the door close to gaze at the multiple figures outside. Neither relief nor trepidation filled him once he recognized his late-night visitors.

"Keit," he said. "A little late, don't you think?"

The tall blond man sighed. "Frankenstein, I am aware of the late hour." He stepped forward, his presence leaving no room for argument. "May we come in?"

Frankenstein glanced at the gathered men outside and slowly nodded. Moving aside, he watched as Keit and his five guards gathered into the small kitchen. He tried not to grimace at the growing puddles on his floor. Closing the door, he sealed off the bitter chill.

He watched as the men stood in his kitchen and noticed how their gazes kept flickering around with wariness. Keit was the only one that did not seem on edge, yet his stiff shoulders told of an alert warrior.

Frankenstein broached the silence. "What brings you and a gathered force to my home?"

"An intruder was spotted near the outside walls," Keit explained. "When pursued, the intruder fled. It is believed that he slipped into the village."

Frankenstein raised an eyebrow. "An intruder in this weather?"

"He was spotted before the rains hit," Keit stated. "It is believed that the intruder is injured." He surveyed the small area. "It is possible that they would have sought refuge."

Frankenstein understood the implied message. "I did have a patient," he said with a careless shrug. There was no doubt in his mind that Raizel was the intruder that they were searching for, but he was unwilling to hand him over. Still, Keit and his companions looked determined to search the area, and he really didn't want to forcefully stop Keit because of the assistance Keit had offered him when he first came to the village.

"Do you mind if we look around?" Keit asked.

Not like he should refuse them. Again, he shrugged. "Go ahead." His sharp gaze fell on their muddy boots. "But remove your shoes."

He received incredulous gazes from everyone but Keit. Unflinchingly, Keit slipped out of his boots, and after a moment of hesitation, his men followed suit. Only then did Frankenstein's glare subside.

As they romped around his house, he tried not to flinch. He hoped, if they were insensitive enough to go into his modest laboratory (he had a bigger one safely hidden away) that they would take care not to mess up his jars and notes. He also wondered what they would do should they come across…

"Frankenstein, what is this?"

…. that. The coffin.

Biting back a sigh, he went up the stairs. Keit and two of his men were in the spare bedroom that he reserved for patients, few as they were.

Keit shot Frankenstein a look. "What's with the coffin?"

Frankenstein casually stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Like I said. I 'had' a patient."

The two men suddenly looked uneasy while Keit frowned. "Was he a lord or something?"

Ah, so Keit noticed the intrinsic gold details that only a prince could afford on his coffin. Another shrug. "He came prepared."

Keit's frown deepened. Looking at his men, he sharply nodded. "Open it."

Uneasiness formed in Frankenstein's stomach, yet he bit back the retort building up in his throat about disrespecting the dead. Instead, he watched with growing curiosity and apprehension as the two men struggled to pry open the lid of the coffin.

He blinked in surprise when he noticed the two guards struggling to open it. Surely the coffin of the lid wasn't that heavy to lift! Even Keit had to get involved to assist his men. He knew Keit didn't keep slackers in his guard, yet these able-bodied men were struggling with the Nobles' coffin.

However, their efforts were enough. With a 'snap' and a 'hiss,' the lid lifted. Frankenstein could not take his eyes off of the object as he wondered what he would see. Never mind how he would explain this situation to Keit, he just wanted to know what a Noble needed with a coffin.

The lid was removed. Inside was Raizel, though only Frankenstein knew who he was. He appeared to be sleeping if it were not for his still chest. Frankenstein's throat closed up. Did that mean Raizel was indeed dead?

Taken aback by the Noble's appearance, Keit and the two guards stared in awe at Raizel's unusually dainty features.

One guard scoffed. "He looks like a noble boy."

Frankenstein glared. "You are disturbing him."

Keit recovered himself. "Right." He snapped his fingers at his companions. "You two, close that lid." While the two men struggled to place the lid back on, Keit approached Frankenstein, his tone hushed. "He does not appear to be the man we were searching for."

Frankenstein glanced at him. "Why?"

"The man we are searching for is heavily injured." He nodded to the coffin. "This man only seems scrapped up." His eyes were heavy, and Frankenstein realized that Keit would still be searching for this intruder, even though Frankenstein knew where the possible intruder was.

"Thank you for your time," Keit said as he led his men out of the room. "I apologize for barging in at such a late hour." He glanced back up with a frown. "Frankenstein, if you notice any unusual activities, please let us know."

He nodded as he escorted them to the door. "Yes, of course I will. Thank you for your concern." He opened the door and pointedly stared down at everyone until they left. "Don't forget your shoes."

Keit spared him one last glance as he pulled up his hood before Frankenstein closed the door once more. With a sigh, he rubbed at his forehead. He was not surprised that the Noble seemed almost healed. Nobles did have amazing healing abilities after all. Still, what was an injured Noble doing this far out?

Alone once more, Frankenstein glanced up the stairs where the spare room was.

He frowned. Now, what to do with this Noble?

* * *

**Keit is a character from the short story "Noblesse: Rai's Adventure." He was called 'Kate' in the webcomic, but he is addressed as 'Keit' on the wiki.**


	5. Chapter 5

He decided that the best thing to do with the Noble...was to do nothing.

Of course, that didn't mean that Frankenstein was calm about his decision. For the next three days, he would sit at the kitchen table or in his lab, and his thoughts would wander to the Noble in the coffin that had taken up residence in his only available room.

Whenever his thoughts drifted towards Raizel and the troublesome issue, his leg would bounce and bump against the table. He would glare at his rebellious leg, which would still his body and return the room to silence, only for the inconvenient jitters to overwhelm him again, and his knee would bump against the table once more.

It was not that he was nervous about having a Noble sleeping in a coffin in his guest bedroom. No, it was the fact that Frankenstein craved answers! His fingers twitched as he resisted the urge to grab a paper and furiously write down his suspicions and findings. It took all of his self-control not to leap from his seat, tear up the stairs, and examine every single detail that the coffin contained, and then, examine this mysterious Noble.

He sighed and dropped his quill pen down. "This is frustrating," he muttered. His knee pumped against the table once more, but he did not glare at it this time. He stared at the documents on his desk with a tight frown before his gaze drifted upwards to the ceiling where Raizel currently slumbered.

Insufferable Noble.

"I need tea," he muttered as he pushed back his chair and made way for the comfortable little kitchen. Keit had provided him with a nice abode near the wall of the village. Though he had received a few patients with minor injuries, he had remained a very private man and wanted to keep it that way.

He folded his arms and watched as the pot of hot water boiled. Thinking of everything and nothing all at once, he was pulled from his stupor at the sound of firm knocking on his door.

Grateful for the distraction yet filled with wariness because there was only one person who would visit him, he opened the door and was greeted by the sight of Keit's ever-present frown.

Frankenstein barley resisted sighing at the, not unpleasant, but unwanted, presence of the guard. "Keit," he greeted. Without moving his head, his eyes drifted down to the small figure standing in front of Keit, and his gaze softened somewhat. "Hello Yuni."

The little girl smiled up at him, yet her blue eyes flickered away with shyness. "Hello sir," she greeted.

He refocused his gaze on Keit, who had yet to explain his presence or even extend to him a proper greeting. "And what can I do for you today?"

Keit inclined his head. "Can this not be a simple house call?"

"Not if you aren't injured." He opened the door a bit wider, nevertheless. "I was just preparing some tea." He noticed with, dare he say delight, how Yuni's eyes brightened up at the mention of such a rare drink. "And I think I have some leftover jam and bread."

As it turned out, he did. Frankenstein liked to stock up on whatever necessities he might need. If he noticed that he was short on supplies, he would simply make a list, set a date, and leave to restock. It was no surprise that he found a freshly baked loaf of bread, jam, and even some butter.

After serving tea, Frankenstein sat at the table across from Keit. The large man was poised at the edge of his seat, as if he was prepared to take off at any moment. One large hand was rested on his knee near the small blade strapped to his waist. Frankenstein noted with interest that the sword usually at his side was missing, which might infer that Keit was not patrolling the walls today.

Yuni squirmed in her seat as she tried to get comfortable. Pursing her lips, she blew on her tea with little short puffs of air. Her attempt at being silent and meek caused another smile to flicker on Frankenstein's face. The smile only grew when he noticed that, to maintain a somewhat equal height with the two men at the table, that she was kneeling in the chair instead of properly sitting. He wondered when she would grow tired of kneeling on the hard wood and would then settle to sit down properly in a more comfortable position.

"I do enjoy your visits," Frankenstein started as he picked up his teacup. Leaning back in his chair, he fixed Keit with a casual glance. "But you usually do not visit me unless the matter is urgent."

Keit sighed and his shoulders slumped ever so slightly. He looked ready to speak, only for Yuni to pipe up. "He came for the jam and tea," she quipped. Her hands were sticky with the red berries as she enjoyed her treat.

Keit shot the young girl a glare. "Yuni," he warned.

Frankenstein smirked, relishing the chance to harmlessly tease Keit. "Is that all? You could have just said so. I might even visit you instead." He wouldn't, but he enjoyed the look of trepidation growing on Keit's face.

As expected, Keit did not rise to the bait, nor did he quip back with his usual monotone sarcasm. Instead, he tiredly blinked and focused once more on Frankenstein. Despite the teasing smile on his face, Frankenstein knew that the jesting was over.

"Has no one come to claim the body?"

Frankenstein's gaze averted to Yuni, and he wondered just how much the girl knew about the incident three days ago. He sipped his tea as he contemplated the question. Strange as it was, no one had come searching for Raizel. Frankenstein had expected someone from a Noble family to come looking for him, or at least the Central Knights. However, he had been unable to detect a single Noble presence. Surely Raizel would have friends or family searching for him, regardless of his social status in Lukedonia?

An unsettling thought occurred to him. Was it possible that he was harboring a criminal? Was that why no family members were looking for Raizel? However, if he was a criminal, then the Central Knights would still be looking for him. After all, the knights tried to hunt him down from time to time, so what was preventing them from looking for another Noble? The lack of activity in Lukedonia was suspicious and did little to ease Frankenstein's anxious mind.

"No," he finally answered. "No one has come to claim him."

Keit cocked his head. "And you have been harboring a body for three days?"

"A corpse is good research material." The statement naturally slipped out before he had considered the young visitor he was currently in the presence of. With stiff shoulders, his gaze flickered to Yuni, and he belittled himself for not watching his language. He had grown so accustomed to Tesamu's presence that he had taken for granted the benefits of having an unabashed and eager child around.

Yuni's reaction was to be expected; her eyes widened, and her mouth formed a silent 'o.' Frankenstein chose to ignore her and watched how Keit's eyes narrowed, the corners of his mouth tight in clear displeasure.

Frankenstein took another sip of his tea to hide the grin that threatened to burst forth on his lips. He refrained from stating, 'I could never let a perfectly good corpse go to waste' or 'I always take good care of my test subjects. Especially the dead ones.' No, best not to unsettle Keit, the only person who was allowing him to stay in this village. Plus, Yuni was still present, and he did not want to frighten her any more than he already had.

Keit coughed uncomfortably before drinking the remainder of his tea. "Frankenstein," he started as he set his empty teacup down. "While your hobbies do startle me, I will turn a blind eye on them."

Frankenstein quirked an eyebrow, sensing a 'but' coming along.

"But," Keit continued, and Frankenstein had to resist smiling, "if Lord Kar were to hear of your side projects, not even Lansia could keep you safe."

Bile rose in Frankenstein's mouth as disgust filled him. He had only seen Lord Kar's daughter once, and once was enough. The face she hid beneath the mask she always wore was just as hideous as the mutants Frankenstein cut down on a regular basis; deceptive, manipulative, and poisonous. He had taken to staying away from Lansia, which was not that difficult. Her highness did not bother to socialize herself with peasants, not unless she wanted something.

He politely nodded. "I thank you for the warning."

Yuni eagerly leaned forward. Traces of jam and crumbs stained the corner of her cheek as she smiled. "What research do you get from a dead body?"

Yuni's sudden and innocent curiosity caused Frankenstein to laugh at the unexpected question, while Keit's horrified shout of "Yuni!" filled the room.

They did not stay for much longer. Once it became apparent that Yuni wanted to see the mysterious body that had taken up residence in Frankenstein's home, Keit seemed eager to leave. Frankenstein gave Yuni a secretive wink that caused the child to beam; he knew she would be back with or without Keit.

Alone once more, Frankenstein found himself at a loss with what to do. He stared at the wooden door for several seconds, noticing the dark wood with the splinters that needed to be sanded over. He added that task on his mental 'to-do' list.

He cleaned the plates and cups, a task that took much longer than usual. But he needed to think and keep his hands busy and thinking about the Noble while he was performing his research would only hinder his progress. He took his time scrubbing off the sticky jam on the plate, and delicately dried the teacups before placing them in their usual spot. He cleaned the entire table instead of the one spot where Yuni had her bread and jam. As the wet streaks marked the surface of the table, he wondered about Raizel and whether he should try and wake him up.

But what would that cause? Would the Noble become enraged at the disturbance and destroy the entire town out of spite? Despite only living here for a short while, Frankenstein did not wish any ill will on anyone in the village. Besides, he knew Nobles had a certain honorable code about not harming humans, but if Raizel was a criminal, then perhaps he did not uphold the same moral codes.

What Frankenstein needed was a distraction, and a good one at that.

He did not retreat to his notes or his research. The walls were suddenly too stifling, closing in on him like a cage. The presence of the Noble upstairs was heavy, as if it was weighing down on him, ever reminding him that he was there.

Instead, he found his retreat outside in the back of his home.

Frankenstein never thought he would be the one to procrastinate. But here he was, his hands soiled with dirt and his hair pulled back to keep the long strands out of his face. The smell of wet earth comforted him, and he drowned himself in the thoughts of his plants for his plants and the destruction of the persistent weeds.

The yard was small and did not offer much space for gardening. But Frankenstein still found room to grow a few strawberries and herbs. The smell of basil and parsley wafted through his nose, and he wondered if he should prepare a meal for when Yuni would come to visit.

Yuni had once expressed delight over the different herbs and plants. Frankenstein had carried with him a bag of seeds when he had arrived at the village, and one of the first things he did (aside from setting up his lab) was to plant them.

Frankenstein straightened up and surveyed his work with a satisfied nod. The sun was still high in the sky. His mind was calm and at ease, and he could almost forget about Raizel and the upcoming problems he would have to deal with.

Carrying his tools into the house, he immediately smelled the scent of herbs. He frowned. Did he leave the tea brewing? But he could not recall why he would have done such a thing.

Irritation filled him. How many intruders and unwanted visitors did this house attract? If he found another thief trying to make himself at home, then he would be less polite than he was with Raizel and Keit.

He stormed into the kitchen, only to stumble to a halt when he saw Raizel setting a teacup down on the table. The Noble's red eyes looked up at him, not in surprise, but with...anticipation?

He did not seem to be injured. His white shirt contained no traces of blood. His black hair framed his face and covered his ears, giving him a much younger appearance. But the fact that he was awake and in the kitchen was what startled Frankenstein.

Raizel looked sheepish at Frankenstein's open surprise. He gestured to the two steaming cups. "Tea is ready."


	6. Chapter 6

Frankenstein hesitated at the doorway. It was a miracle that he was able to keep his mouth shut and prevent himself from gaping like an idiot.

Raizel was clearly waiting for a response. Not impatiently, but like he was allowing Frankenstein to take as long as he wanted to respond to the preparation of the tea.

That only made Frankenstein more uncomfortable.

"...thanks?" It sounded like a question, but it was an honest one. What was this being doing making him tea? "I'll just...clean myself up for a bit."

Raizel only nodded, and Frankenstein resisted the urge to back up into the stairs and not take his eyes off of the Noble. Instead, with an amazing amount of self-control, he turned his back on Raizel and deliberately headed for his room.

What, what, what, what?

What was the Noble doing out of his coffin? What was he doing making him some tea? Why didn't Frankenstein sense his presence earlier?

More importantly, what now?

He resisted the intense urge to run his dirty hands through his hair. Instead, he ran his hands through the water in a bucket and hastily dried them. With his hands now clean, his mind focused on the particular situation currently sitting downstairs in his kitchen. Did the Noble mean to harm him? If so, then why offer him tea?

But just from looking at this Noble, at Raizel, Frankenstein could not find him at all threatening. He would berate himself about not judging anyone or anything based on first impressions and appearances, but Raizel did not seem capable of malice. If anything, he seemed to wear a blank expression and communicate with his eyes. Every emotion and intent were in the depths of his eyes, and they contained no animosity.

Descending the stairs, Frankenstein found Raizel waiting in the kitchen. Frankenstein watched him as he approached the chair. Sitting down he glanced at the cup of tea before looking back at the Noble. With careful fingertips, he picked up the cup and tried not to wrinkle his nose. The uncrushed herbs floated in the hot water. Sniffing, he detected a strong scent of thyme.

He suppressed a grimace. So, the Noble did not know how to make tea.

To avoid offending the Noble, Frankenstein took a tentative sip before placing the teacup back down. Biting the inside of his cheek, he prevented the gag from bubbling forth at the taste. He glanced at Raizel who had also quietly sat down in front of him.

"I am glad you are feeling better," Frankenstein started. Perhaps 'better' should have been used lightly. The Noble looked so pale and dangerously small. Did he have anything to eat? Frankenstein immediately got up and retrieved the leftover bread and jam and set it in front of the Noble. "Still, you must be famished. You haven't eaten in three days."

Raizel nodded as he glanced at the offered food. "Thank you."

It was on the tip of Frankenstein's tongue to ask him how his wounds were healing. He already knew that Nobles had an incredible healing rate, but the doctor inside of him could not help but inwardly fret over a patient. Did the bandages need changed? Was there an infection?

"I reckon that was a healing slumber you entered," Frankenstein stated. He traced the rim of the teacup with his finger, unwilling to finish the well-meaning yet inedible gift.

Raizel nodded as he held the bread in his hand, staring at it with curiosity. Once again, his mannerisms looked young and innocent, like a child fascinated with a new toy. His hands delicately poked at the bread before setting it back down on the plate. He stared at the food, as if mystified.

Frankenstein frowned. Would this Noble offer him any information? Prodding him would take some time.

"Was your slumber successful?" he asked.

"Somewhat." Raizel cocked his head in thought, finally looking away from the bread. "I woke up too early."

Frankenstein raised an eyebrow. "Oh? How long do your healing slumbers last?"

"Years."

Frankenstein sat upright. "Years?" he demanded. He did not know why this surprised him. He knew Nobles lived longer than humans. But to remain in a state of hibernation for years just to heal from wounds?

He paused. Actually, that would be a good idea. It was a doctor's dream to have a patient who could sit still and allow the body to traverse through the slow healing process.

Raizel nodded once more. "But I woke up early."

Frankenstein leaned forward, folding his hands together. "Why did you wake up early?"

"Your thoughts. They were noisy. I couldn't sleep."

Frankenstein blinked. "Oh. Sorry." Never had he ever apologized to anyone for thinking before.

"You were also agitated," Raizel continued. "Especially when the intruders came into your home."

Frankenstein blinked once more. Intruders? He slowly smiled when he determined that there was only one incident when Frankenstein felt as if he was being intruded upon. "Keit and his men are harmless," he stated. "Though they can be a bit nosy."

Raizel frowned. "They were not intruders?"

"More like interlopers. Their timing was inconvenient for me." He stood up, taking his teacup with him. The water in the pot was still hot, perfect for a new and edible cup of tea. As Frankenstein pulled out another cup, he stated "However, Keit is a determined man and is still wary about you. As of now, anyone he does not recognize in this village will be suspected as the injured intruder he was tracking."

He cleared his throat. Sitting back in his chair, he crossed his legs. "Since your hibernation was interrupted, will you go back to sleep in that coffin?"

Raizel shook his head. "I will rest, but not in the coffin." He wrapped his hands around the teacup and savored its warmth. "My body has healed from the significant damage. For now, that is enough."

A thought occurred to Frankenstein, and he leaned forward with curiosity. "Were you disturbed from your rest when they opened the coffin?"

"A little," he admitted. "But I did not want to wake up. So, I stayed still so that they would not know I was alive."

Frankenstein processed those words. He had wanted to fool Keit and his men when they had opened the coffin? "Why?"

"You had told them that I was already deceased," Raizel answered. "To imply anything else would have discredited you."

Frankenstein grinned in amusement. "You were playing dead."

Raizel looked confused. "I was pretending to be a deceased human."

"Yes, well," Frankenstein said with another smile. "That is what I meant."

A look of sheer confusion came across Raizel's face, and he looked down at his teacup. "Oh."

Frankenstein debated on whether or not to launch into a conversation on what exactly 'play dead' meant for the confused Noble, but he decided against it. It was not a necessary topic to dwell upon. Besides, he had more pressing topics to discuss with the Noble.

"What will you do now?" Frankenstein asked.

Raizel paused. His gaze grew distant as he stared listlessly at his cup. "I do not know." His tone, usually soft, was now so heavy with a hidden emotion. Frankenstein realized with a start, that the Noble was not merely thinking about what he should do since his body needs time to heal, but rather, he was dwelling on other matters that were more troublesome than an injured body and a watchful village leader.

"Well," Frankenstein started slowly as the silence stretched on. "I understand that my medical knowledge does not match up with that of a Noble, but I would like to examine your wounds before you go."

Raizel's gaze snapped away from the cup that he had been staring at. His eyes carried within the depths of those crimson irises the same emotional burden that his voice had carried. His expression was like that of a perfectly polished statue, frozen and motionless. It was the eyes that Frankenstein needed to read to assess what the Noble was feeling.

"Okay," Raizel answered. His hand rose to touch the side of his ribcage where the claw marks were. "It hurts here."


	7. Chapter 7

They had moved from the kitchen to the spare bedroom, because Frankenstein was not going to perform business where he cooked.

Raizel stayed still, holding his shirt up to expose his side. Frankenstein tried to suppress his surprise when he first saw the wound. The injured area was red and inflamed, but otherwise closed. Frankenstein made a mental note of the supplies he would need to bring the inflammation down. But he could not contain his intrigue at the proof of Noble's rapid healing abilities. As always, his scientist mind fought with his medical side as he reminded himself that he had a patient before him, not research material.

His wandering eye noticed how the inflamed coloring of the skin stood out against the paleness of the Noble's body. Raizel was two shades away from matching the color of the white sheets on the bed. Biting the inside of his cheek to ward off the frown, Frankenstein once again noticed how small the Noble was. He made another mental note to give the Noble some bread and soup.

Stepping away, Frankenstein slipped his glasses off. "Your wound is healing up pretty well, though I am not surprised." Safely pocketing his glasses away, he gave Raizel a small smile. "However, I have a concoction that will bring the inflammation down." He made one last mental note to mention at some time that the Noble visit outside for some more sun. Anything to remedy that pale complexion.

Frankenstein paused when he realized his thought process. Only now did he just realize that he was thinking about telling a Noble what to do. His brow furrowed at the thought. Not only that, but was the Noble really his responsibility anymore? He could only assume that the Noble would be on his way to Lukedonia now that he was fully functional.

Not to mention, it was most likely best that the Noble leave as soon as possible. Keit and the soldiers had already seen his face in the coffin, and Frankenstein did not want to be the one explaining why the corpse was suddenly walking about. It was probably best for him that the Noble vanish, and with him, the troubles.

One more glance at his patient, and Frankenstein re-evaluated his thoughts. Just because Raizel appeared fine did not mean he was fully recovered. He knew first hand how deceiving the body could be, especially when someone was suffering from internal injuries. Even now he could feel the dipleated energy from him. He still looked so fragile, despite the amount of power fluctuating from him.

Frankenstein's eyes narrowed. No, that didn't seem right. His power was not fluctuating from him. This power was consuming him!

He immediately kneeled down before Raizel so that they were eye-level. "Is your power stable?"

Raizel glanced at him with heavy eyes. "No."

"Fascinating." Frankenstein was far too engrossed in his observations to realize that he had said something insensitive to a patient. He noticed that the power within the Noble appeared to be seeping out, only to surround him. While some of the power was escaping his body, it hovered near him, recognizing its host. It seemed as if Raizel's body could not contain his own power, as if he were a broken vase unable to hold water. But the majority of the Noble's power was at his center, attacking the body where the injuries were.

Frankenstein noticed that Raizel's face was taught, his lips tightly pressed together. Withdrawing a handkerchief, he gave it to Raizel. The Noble nodded gratefully, covering his mouth with the handkerchief as he coughed. Blood stained the white fabric. Raizel's body shuddered before the coughing subsided.

"Is this normal?" Frankenstein had witnessed the power of Nobles before, but that was only when he met with the Central Knights. With Dark Spear, the Central Knights were not a threat to him. While they all possessed some unique sort of aura and skill from their families, he had never before felt this type of self-destructive power from Raizel.

His eyes widened as he stared at Raizel warily. "Are you perhaps a Family Leader?"

To his surprise, Raizel shook his head. Folding the blood stained handkerchief, Raizel placed it on his lap. "I have no family."

Not a Family Leader? Then what was he? If a Noble was radiating such power, then how strong were the Family Leaders?

Retrieving a cup of water from the kettle, Frankenstein handed it to the Noble. He was unsure what else to do with this Noble, or even if he should do anything. Besides, he could not ignore those injuries. They were the clear marks of a werewolf. A normal wolf would not have caused a Noble any harm. Therein was the problem. If a werewolf experienced a skirmish with a Noble, then what happened to the werewolf? The werewolves were usually a tight knit group, and to attack one meant to attack the pack. Frankenstein had never battled a werewolf before, but he knew that they were formidable enemies, especially the elders of the pack.

Perhaps his initial suspicions were correct, and he was harboring a Noble fugitive. A thought he had not bothered to entertain crossed his mind. Perhaps he was harboring the last piece of evidence from a skirmish between Nobles and werewolves. He knew that there was some type of hostility between the Nobles and the werewolves, despite the efforts of the lords on both sides to smooth over the conflict. Perhaps they had finally clashed, their animosity boiling to the surface.

"Do you have anywhere else to go?" Frankenstein stood up. This Noble, he decided, was not his enemy. If anything, the Noble did not seem to know who Frankenstein was and that the Knights were after him.

Raizel shook his head. His eyes flickered away, as if embarrassed and slightly...was that shame?

Frankenstein gently smiled. "I am not kicking you out. If anything, you need to rest and replenish on your liquids and nutrition. If you intend to stay, I can supply you with pain-killers and a bed to rest in and not that," his gaze flickered sideways "that coffin you conjured up."

The tension within Raizel's gaze slowly retreated. "Thank you."

"I will want to change your bandages," Frankenstein continued as he gathered the supplies. "And I would encourage you to minimize your movements. You are still recovering, and we would not want that wound to open up and increase your risk of infection."

Bandaging the Noble confirmed to Frankenstein just how small he was. After the bandaging was done, Frankenstein instructed the Noble to remain in the guest bedroom while he prepared some soup. He would only give the Noble small quantities of food just to make sure that Raizel could keep the food down. Raizel did not protest at the instructions and merely nodded.

Gathering the ingredients that he would need, Frankenstein's mind wandered. Despite the presence of the Noble, did his initial plans need to change? This village was different from the other areas he had visited, which was why he was here in the first place. The strange aura he had felt within the lands had piqued his interest, but so far, he had yet to find the source of that energy. The only strange thing he had found was the town's utter devotion for their elusive god, Kurmark.

He frowned at the thought. From what he had gathered during his travels and research, whenever a town became utterly devoted to a god, the Nobles were behind it. Many family leaders were even connected or born from the legends of the gods. His initial thoughts about Kurmark was that a Noble was behind the new religion, entertained by the devotion the humans were showing to such a powerful being.

As the water for the soup boiled, Frankenstein continued to muse. Perhaps Raizel was connected to the energy this village was emanating. Frankenstein certainly hadn't done enough investigating into the source of the aura, but the presence of the Noble appeared to make a connection.

He sighed. Perhaps he would look into it once he was finished with Raizel. At this point, the village appeared to be normal.

However, with the appearance of the Noble in this small village, normal took on a new meaning.

* * *

**A/N: Okay, so because of the long hiatus, I forgot where this story was going, so I had to rewrite an entire outline. But fear not! I have the journey, some major plot points, and an ending planned out! Yay!**


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